


In the End

by asymmetricalOverdose



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen, Superstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymmetricalOverdose/pseuds/asymmetricalOverdose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superstuck ficlet, noncanon. Itchy realizes that he and the other Felt were just pawns in Lord English's game. Shame he realizes it when he's half a breath away from Death's door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

**> Itchy: Die**

****

Getting there, hold your fucking horses, okay?

Your name is Itchy, you’re a member of the Felt, a notorious gang of mobsters and you’re currently trying to keep your guts on the inside where they belong. The pain is mind-numbing and if you were lucky like Clover, you’d be unconscious and slowly bleeding out from a stab wound to the kidney. But nope. You’re the unluckiest fucker of all the dead assholes scattered around the mansion and you’re the only one awake to hear Lord English, your father figure, the only man you respect, tell that bastard Slick that you were all just pawns.

Toys.

Things to use and discard like garbage.

Well, you tell yourself, you should have seen it coming, really. All of you were expendable, bad at your jobs for the most part, some of you too soft, some of you too weak. All of you were just pawns in a game constructed by a green lunatic in a Technicolor Dream Coat with a peg-leg. Fucking great. The worst part? The worst fucking part of this entire thing you realize as you blink away tears of pain was that Die fucking told you. He told all of you. But you just laughed at him, called him a pussy and told him to cry to someone that gave a fuck about his drug-induced ramblings.

Then he was clubbed to death by Slick.

Right there, right in front of you and Doze. 

You lasted the longest in the fight, seconded only by Crowbar and Doze. 

Fuck, watching Doze bleed out was the hardest on you. He was weak and soft and pathetic but he was the only one that could tolerate your shit, the only one you thought of as a real friend, and you couldn’t protect him and there he was, ten feet away from you, bled out like a pig with the saddest look on his face that you can still see from where you’re lying if you look past Crowbar’s leg just right. And shit, Crowbar. Hearts beat him to a pulp before taking a chunk out of him, literally. Sick bastards, all of them.

“—surprised you got this far.” Lord English’s voice is a deep rumble, filled with mirth and sick joy as he stared down at his black-suited rival. 

No, fuck it. The Midnight Crew were sick, but not as fucked up as English. Shit. And Jake was coming home soon at his old man’s request. Goddamn it, Jake was going to come home and see a battlefield covered in blood and guts and Lord English didn’t give a shit. “You…” You gasp out, coughing wetly and sending blood splattering to the floor. Lord English and Slick stop bantering and look at you, English in amusement and Slick in surprise. “You bastard…y, you fucking planned this…f-from the start…to kill us…”

To kill my friends? After all the years we worked for you, you planned on letting us die like this?

“How the fuck’re ya still alive?” Slick demands, clearly surprised that his knife hadn’t done a great job at gutting you alive. Too fucking bad for him.

“D-determination, fuckass.” You sneer with blood-coated teeth. You glare at English, using one hand to try and stop your insides from hitting the floor and slow the bleeding although like fuck that’s going to happen. You push yourself up to your knees with your other hand and, after a minute more, get to your feet. Your legs are unsteady and the world is spinning and Christ, you can see the condition of Crowbar and Doze better now and you feel even sicker than you did before, but you’re motherfucking Itchy, number one, and you can’t toss your lunch now. 

You take a breath, steel your nerves and continue as you try to get the world to stop spinning. “You used us…to, to piss him off?” You manage to shout, unaware of the tears that are falling. “You, you asshole!” The world snaps into focus for a brief moment and you take that moment to charge English, getting in only one sluggish kick before your leg is grabbed and you’re flung into the far wall with a crack and earth-shattering pain. You could feel your ribs crack on impact and your head snaps back to hit the wall with another sickening crack that leaves spots dancing across your vision and pain ringing through every inch of your body.

You slump to the ground, vision blurring and ears ringing. Fuck, you’re so tired…is this really the end? Really? You had so much left to do, so many things to say to the people that are dead and long gone and to the one person you trusted. The world fades to black for a moment, coming back into focus long enough to see the door open and Jake rush in, and then blissful darkness claims you.

Are you dead? You don’t know, but you know that it’s sure as fuck better than seeing someone else you think of as family die.


End file.
